Just stagger
by missmissyeyes
Summary: Even when it came to death, Shadowhunters could not cry. Alexander Lightwood was no exception. Magnus/Alec. CoG Spoilers.


**Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments. Cassandra Clare does.**

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Magnus could only just stand.

He was within the glass city. The place that was supposed to be the most beautiful—the most vibrant place on earth. But, with the wards down, he could only see _dust_. Not the dust the collected upon his wooden, apartment floor... but a metaphor of the fallen; or, in this case, the fallen angel.

_It is quite easy to see_, he said to himself. _From this high._

Really... what did he expect? He _had_ walked up one of the highest standing hills in Idris; it just wasn't for his own personal reasons. He had followed Alec.

Well... it wasn't only the creepy, stalker type thing to do... but also the right thing to do. As much as he knew Alec wouldn't dare love him, wouldn't dare touch him in public, would not even lay his eyes upon his own in the slightest company... there was no way he could leave him. Especially at a time like this.

Magnus watched as the dark green grass carried the whispers of the cool breeze; he watched as the night sky echoed its glooming surroundings; he watched as Alec, the one he would gladly shower riches upon, sitting on the fine grass. He was staring ahead, as if he'd been waiting.

For what, Magnus did not know.

"Alec?" He said, loud just enough for him to hear. "What're you doing? You're missing the party." Just as Alec looked back—right up at him—he made a slight gesture towards the Accords hall.

Alec's icy blue orbs scanned over his, both lazy and sullen. "Yeah, right, Magnus," he said, true sarcasm reaching his voice. "It is a real party, isn't it?"

"Not really," Magnus said back. "It's lacking in the beverage category."

"Really?" Alec asked, curious.

"Yes," Magnus said briskly. "And the vibrancy."

Alec sighed impatiently. He shifted along the grass and pulled his arms in close, hugging his own body. "We're shadowhunters," he said, quite bluntly. "It's the way we grieve."

Magnus merely sighed in return. His gaze was now directed towards the Accords hall, where he could now hear the Clave's voices. Though most of them were quiet, he heard a few quick yells, followed by a loud holler. "Well," he said. "You all need to lighten up. Act lively for once."

Alec turned some more, looking at him square in the eye. "You think you could be a bit more understanding?"

"No," Magnus said. "I'm just saying you need an outlet."

"Like what, exactly?"

"I don't know," Magnus answered, thinking quietly. "Something like a punching bag?"

"Oh, really?" Alec said, acting quite convulsively. "Is that really what you think Max meant to me? A passing I could get over that easily?"

Though his voice wasn't exactly expressing anger, it almost made Magnus stagger back in revulsion. And despite the nausea that tickled at his nerves, he answered coolly. "No," he said. The cold, autumn wind encircled them, then; as if it meant to echo Magnus's quiet words. As if it meant to carry them to Alec's ears. "I didn't mean--"

"I've tried punching things," Alec said, cutting him off. "Didn't work. I guess I'm not Jace material."

"Shut up," Magnus said, suddenly feeling the need to give him comfort. He was already in process of bending down, right behind Alec. His knees had sleeked the cold, dirt floor; sending quick shivers up his spine. He brought his hand upon Alec's shoulder. "Shut up and listen to me."

Alec seemed to relax a bit, but without a seconds notice, tensed once again. "He was my _brother_, Magnus," he whispered, as if snaking away from the cold wind's wistful movements. "_My little brother_," he said again, as if trying to convince himself.

The wind blew a strong gust, once again—making Alec's body produce a round of hasty shudders. He wasn't wearing a jacket. Only the thin, hole-prone sweater Magnus usually saw him in.

Seeing this as an invitation, Magnus brought his arms around him; he pulled him in, as if he were shielding him from the world's senses. So when Alec didn't pull away... he pulled him in even closer. Tighter. "It isn't your fault, Alec," he shook him slightly, then, "and it never was."

Alec glanced around, looking for an alternative distraction. One to distract him from both this world and the other millions around him.

He could have imagined thousands of doors, many of different color. Mazes of wood, stone, unknown compounds and elements. And every obstacle was one he wanted to get out of; every obstacle he didn't need. Right there in front of him. Watching him, protruding him with naked reviled eyes.

"My little brother is dead!" Alec yelled suddenly, making Magnus jump. "And it wasn't an accident. It was a failure," he said, this time sounding oddly serene. Yet it was like that of a supple autumn's waterfall; cold just enough to leave small traces of ice. "On my part, plain incompetence."

Magnus looked down upon him, sympathy encasing his features in a fine leather.

Alec's eyes had grown shiny and soft, as if his icy blue orbs had melted. As if spring had come, far too early. He even shuddered slightly; even though Magnus's hold was much too tight for such a thing.

Tears drew from his eyes like a fine, lithe wax. Yet they didn't harden... they only grew less opaque; making the scene before them much more obscure. As if paints were pounded across a canvas—as if deep colors of blue and brown had invaded their sullen faces. Much like a painting... a painting that meant to be frozen within time.

But this one had moved way too fast.

Magnus had wanted to tell him _'it's okay to cry, y' know'_. He wanted smile dorkily and say, '_this is the better outlet I was talking about,'_ or _'you should do this more often'_.

But Magnus didn't say anything—because Alexander Lightwood did not cry. Alexander Lightwood took hateful looks in strides, killed hoarded demons, and worked nights on end.

He was a fighter; a fighter that unfortunately... could not cry.

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**I actually started writing this a month ago... I just didn't have the time to finish it, let alone post it. I hate school. Gets in the way of everything, especially my avid reading schedule. **

**Though I'm afraid it could be OOC, but I guess it's the best I can do... for now. I just wanted to show how quickly someone who isn't expected to show emotion can break. I didn't mean to make Alec (or Magnus, for that matter) sound bipolar, lol.**


End file.
